Switched
by infectedmind
Summary: Lorelai and Rory switch bodies. Trory, Tristan comes back from military school. Just something to fight my writer's block. Not very original, especially the title :)
1. 1

Switched

**A/N: **Hello, all…this is my random little fiction that I thought of when I saw Freaky Friday.  Pretty useless, just to combat writer's block on my other fic.  Lorelai and Rory switch places.  Oh, go see that movie, by the way.  For the Chad.  Darn it, why did they have to take CMM off of Gilmore Girls.  Well, as you can see, I'm a total trory fan, and this fic is going to be trory, only in an odd way.  Yeah, Tristan's back, totally illogical plot line.  Rory and Lorelai are mad at each other because of the whole Jess thing.  

            Rory was sitting on a hard bench near the bus stop outside of Chilton, her neck aching because she had slept in a very odd position last night.  Trying to ignore the pain, she tried to concentrate on the book she read.  It didn't help that she had missed the first bus, and now had to wait another half hour for the next one.  Only five minutes had passed, and Rory was getting antsy and more and more irritable by the moment.  Oh, god, it had not been a good day.  In fact, it had not been a good week.

            And to top it all off, Tristan DuGrey was back at Chilton.  Yes, this was the very same Tristan DuGrey who had made the life of Rory living hell during her sophomore year, and now he was back to taunt her.  Damn fate.  As if he had been privy to her thoughts about him, none of them favorable and many involving types of bodily harm that could be inflicted on the blonde, Tristan strutted up to her, leaning into her to reach her ear.

            "Mary."

            "Go away, Tristan."

            "Oh, Mary, you wound me."

            "I'm serious.  I am not in the mood."

            "But I, on the other hand, am always in the mood.  We could do it right here on the bench if you wanted.  But alas, you aren't in the _mood_."

            "Shut up, Tristan," Rory said, trying to ignore his infuriating presence.  The boy did not know when he wasn't wanted.

            "You miss the bus?"  he asked, and when she didn't say anything or even make a motion, he continued.  "I'll take your silence as a cover up for your deep feelings for me?"

            "Don't you take a hint, DuGrey?"

            "A response out of my fair lady!  Thank heavens!" he quipped.

            "Tristan, there isn't enough room on this bench for me, you, and your ego, so kindly remove the latter two."

            "Au contraire, I was going to be the kind gentleman and offer you a ride home."

            "No thank you, Tristan."

            "You'd rather wait another twenty-five minutes for the next bus, when you could be halfway home by then?"  
            "It's totally out of your way, Tristan."

            "It's a Friday.  I have nothing better to do."

            "Isn't it your date night or something?"

            "Yes, and let me drive you home and it still will be."

            "In light of these new circumstances, _no_."

            "Last chance, Mary.  I'm being a good Samaritan." 

            "My name is NOT Mary."

            "Woahh, there Mary.  You okay?"

            Rory resorted to silence again, and she was gratified when Tristan finally stood up and walked out to his car, a shiny black affair.  She wasn't sure what kind of car it was due to her limited automobile knowledge, but it was definitely a sports car, and expensive-looking.  As he drove by her, though, he stopped for a second and rolled down the driver side window.

            "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"

            "Yes, I'm sure."

            "Fine," Tristan snapped, his annoyance apparent.  He sped out of the parking lot, leaving Rory there, trying to focus again on her book.  It was one of her favorite Russians, Tolstoy, who had a lot to say about the death of a man called Ivan Ilyich.  Unlike most of his extremely descriptive prose, the writing in this book was shaved clean of such add-ons.  So she should be able to concentrate on it, but she couldn't.  

            She was still forcing herself to read something she wasn't in the mood for when the bus arrived.  Happy, she climbed on, then made a spectacle of herself looking for change, and finally sat down in her customary seat, blushing.  Oh, yes, it had not been a good day.


	2. 2

                                                                        **Switched**

Well, howdy there.  Didn't expect that I would get any reviews at all, so thanks =).  Yeah, and I know Lorelai's not technically an innkeeper, but ohhh well.  Sounded cool.

            Lorelai Gilmore, Innkeeper extraordinaire, was not feeling very extraordinary either.  She, in fact, felt quite the opposite.  Michel had taken a 'sick' day, although he had sounded perfectly well as he was making his excuses (punctuated by a fake cough here and there for effect), Sookie had burnt her arm and was currently incapable of moving it without wincing, and she herself was not speaking to her daughter, whom she had always prided herself on good communication with.

            Damn Jess Mariano.  Damn him and all his minions.  Of which he had several, no doubt.  Several evil little minions, all in the exact infuriating replica of Jess himself.  There were probably mini-Jess's running around all of Stars Hollow right now, and when she got back her day would probably get worse.

            "Aarghhh!" Lorelai said out loud, and received strange looks from several of the Inn's customers.  "That's it.  I can't take this anymore."  She left, only stopping to grab her coat and keys, leaving the reception desk empty.  The customers could ransack the Independence Inn for all she gave a damn.  She was going home.

            By the time she had drove home, nearly run out of gas, but made a quick stop at some stupid station that had evilly high prices, she was exhausted.  Her lovely daughter, who was not currently her favorite person in the world, had left her book bag next to the kitchen table, so Lorelai knew she was home.

            "Rorry…" she yelled.  "Where are you?"  There was no response, so she walked to the living room, where the very same adolescent sat, eating Chinese food.

            "No Luke's tonight?  He'll worry and send the police," Lorelai said, attempting to crack a joke.

            "We don't eat at Luke's _every_ night," Rory said, and her mother winced.

            "Save any for me?"

            "There's plenty left.  Help yourself," the younger Gilmore said, somewhat coldly.

            "Fortune cookies?" 

            "In the bag."

            Rory and her mother both took a fortune cookie.  Purely by accident, they slipped the fortune cookies out of their respective wrappers and cracked them open.  Perhaps showing how alike mother and daughter really were, the same thought flashed through their heads- something to the effect that the other didn't really know quite how hard it was, a wish to trade places.

            Ah, the things we wish for are not always what we want.  Remember the monkey's paw?

A/N: The Monkey's Paw is a short story when people who got a hold of this like mummified or something monkey's paw with supposed magical powers.  It granted wishes, but not in the way one would expect.  It was EEEVILLL.  Go read it!! =)  Another short chapter.  I'm sorry.  Go read my other fic too, though!!!


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